Title: The Damsel

Author: Rose [rosiethebug@yahoo.com]

Archive: Yippy skippy, just tell me where.

Disclaimer: I am coming to terms with the fact that
they are not mine, and that I do not make any money by
writing these. It’s hard to believe, isn’t it?

Summary: Yet another Post-Noel fic, but you see, mine
is different. I can’t tell you why, though, because
that would spoil all the fun. Sequel to ‘My Knight In
Shining Armor’ and “Understanding.’

Notes: Thank you to everyone who said such kind things
about my other stories! More is coming, and swear that
eventually there will be some actual, I don’t know,
romance.

************
“This is ridiculous, Donna. I don’t need a doctor.”

“What part of ‘You have an open cut’ don’t you
understand?”

“It’s not open. I wrapped it!”

“And with your incredible medical expertise-”

“There’s no call for sarcasm.”

He’s better. I can tell. There’s still more to be
done, but in his eyes I can see what has been missing
for so long: hope. Stanley kept his promise. Josh is
healing. He’s been out of that room for fifteen
minutes and he’s already bantering.

Merry Christmas, Donna Moss.

We drive in silence for a while, simply enjoying the
quiet and avoiding thoughts of the ordeal to come.

“I believe you missed the exit to the emergency room
back there, Donna.”

“O ye of little faith.”

“As a matter of fact I have a great deal of faith in
you, Donnatella Moss. Just very little confidence in
your driving abilities.”

“When are you going to let that go?”

“When I find better material.”

“Which isn’t going to be any time in the near future,
I’m guessing.”

“Doesn’t look like it, no.”

“Make one wrong turn and your reputation is ruined
forever. One wrong turn!”

“Actually, I believe it was four wrong turns but, hey,
who’s counting?”

“You, apparently. Anyway, I ended up on the right road
in the end.”

“And took ten years off my life in the process.”

“Oh no, you’re catching on to my dastardly plan!” I
really should watch fewer cartoons on late night
television.

“Did you just use the word ‘dastardly’ in a sentence?”

“Ladies and Germs, I give you Joshua Lyman, ever quick
on the up-take!” Ah yes, the witty conversational
stylings of Donna Moss.

“You’re damaging my fragile psyche, Donna.” He’s
joking about this? I really wasn’t expecting him to
joke about this.

“I’m not attacking your psyche, Josh. I’m downsizing
your copious ego. What’s wrong with the word
‘dastardly’, anyway? It’s a perfectly good word.”

“It’s a hilarious word. I was half expecting you to
start twisting your greasy black mustache around your
finger and cackle.” And because I’m so happy to have
him back and I’m so miserable about the idea of a trip
to the hospital, I do something I haven’t done since I
was in elementary school. I perform my amazing Snidely
Whiplash laugh.

Josh laughs so hard his eyes begin to water. “That is
the single funniest thing I have ever heard. Do it
again!” My God how I’ve missed that laugh.

“I can not perform on demand, Joshua. I am an artist,
not a trained poodle!” This only makes him laugh
harder. I join in, and soon we’re in tears on the side
of the road. Every time we start to calm down one of
us begins to giggle. Finally we both are in too much
pain to do anything but lean against each other and
pant.

“I think I collapsed another lung,” he finally says
when he can breathe again.

“Two in one year? That must be a record.”

“We should call ‘Ripley’s Believe It or Not’!”

“I have a feeling Leo wouldn’t approve.”

“He always spoils my fun.” We fall silent again. We’re
trying so hard not to discuss the significant things
that have happened recently that our conversations
tonight have been even more irrelevant than usual.
Stanley was right; we rarely talk about truly
important issues. Though I’ve always sensed a deeper
meaning behind our banter, most days we just joke and
tease.

Eventually we’re going to have to discuss that deeper
meaning.

“Donna?”

“Hmm?”

“You don’t have to stay with me at the hospital if you
don’t want to. I could take a taxi back to my
apartment, and it’s Christmas Eve-”

“No can do, Josh. I know you too well and I promised
Leo I’d make sure you got that hand looked at.”

“Are you suggesting that I’m untrustworthy?”

“I’m just saying that I know you and that I wouldn’t
blame you if you tried to back out of this.”

“It’s just the emergency room. No big deal.” He sounds
as if he’s trying to convince himself.

“Of course. But if you go in there alone and they say
the word ‘insurance’ you’ll cuss the nurse out and
leave.”

“My insurance company is an organization of bastards.”


“I know. I coined that phrase, remember?”

“You always take credit for my catch phrases.”

“That’s because they were mine in the first place. I
should copyright them.”

“I could find some legal loophole and-”

“You might want to hire a real lawyer to do that.”

“I AM a real lawyer!” Have I mentioned that I am very
good at pushing his buttons?

“You keep telling yourself that.” I start the car and
resume our drive to that pit of hell known as the
General Hospital.

“You’re more fun to talk to when you’re drunk.” Ha ha.
Very cute, Josh.

“You’re more fun to talk to when you’re unconscious.”
Take that, funny boy.

“You talked to me while I was unconscious?” How can he
take something like that and twist it so it feeds his
ego? This man is impossible.

“Maybe.”

He’s smirking. “I can just see it. My devoted
assistant hovering over my sick bed, hanging on every
breath.” All of a sudden this isn’t so funny anymore.

“It wasn’t so entertaining at the time, Joshua,” I say
quietly, hoping he’ll drop the subject. He catches the
hint and gives me an apologetic look. I don’t think he
realizes how hard it was for me- for everyone- to
wait.

“We missed the exit a long time ago, Donna. Is there
some sort of Batcave entrance to this hospital I don’t
know about?”

“I would tell you but then I’d have to kill you.”

“Can’t you just blindfold me instead?”

“Too late. We’re already here.” I’ve driven to and
from hospitals a lot these past few months, and I know
a few tricks of the trade.

“See? Closer parking.”

“Good thing, ‘cause it looks like it’s going to start
snowing any minute. You should be happy. White
Christmas and all that.”

He’s trying to maintain the lighthearted mood, but
neither of us are looking forward to what’s about to
come.
***********

I park and we walk into the emergency room. We both
pause at the familiar sights and smells of the
hospital. He looks hesitant but determined. I just
want to run back out those doors. I don’t think anyone
in the world likes hospitals, but I…

Josh takes my hand and leads me to the waiting room so
he can fill out his forms. In a corner of my mind I
can hear him cursing his insurance company vehemently
under his breath, but I’m lost in my own thoughts.

There is no worse place in any hospital than the
Waiting Room. The OR, the ICU- the Waiting Room is
filled with the most pain. People Waiting to hear
about their loved ones. Crying into the blue plastic
of the chairs.

I lost myself in a room like this one. I sat here and
I drifted away.

“Donna? The doctor’s ready to see me now.”

I snap out of my memories to see Josh looking down at
me, concerned. Well, this is a new arrangement. The
past few months it’s been the other way around. It
would almost be refreshing if my stomach wasn’t
twisting into sour knots. I nod and attempt a smile.
He smiles back and rolls his eyes in the direction of
the irate nurse standing behind him.

He really is wonderful actor. With that smirk and his
relaxed posture no one would ever guess that he’s
terrified. Having to deal with a hospital so soon
after he had just begun to come to terms with
everything…He must feel a hell of a lot worse than I
do. It’s this thought that gives me the courage to
make my next move.

I turn to the nurse and put on my best Harmless and
Unassuming Face. “Would it be alright if I go back
with you?” Josh looks surprised.

“I don’t need someone to hold my hand, Donna.” He
tries so hard to sound annoyed, but I can tell he’s
incredibly relieved. He should learn he can’t get
anything past me.

At this point I need to reconsider my strategy. How do
I do what Josh needs without damaging his fragile male
ego? I can’t tell him that I want to be there for him.
I do, and I know he knows I do but…

At this point I notice both Josh and the nurse are
starting to get a little impatient. Time for desperate
measures. Plan B: Reveal Emotions Better Left Hidden.

“Josh, I…Waiting Rooms and I aren’t on very good terms
at the moment. I’d really rather…” I gesture half-
heartedly in the direction that the nurse is
attempting to herd him. I belatedly notice that my
voice contained more emotion than I had intended.

“Donna…” He looks as if something just occurred to
him. He’s going to want to discuss this later.

Damn it. This always happens when I try to strategize
under pressure. I end up saying something I don’t want
the other person to hear. Damn, damn, damn.

Josh slips his good hand under my arm and we follow
the nurse back to the emergency room. A harried man in
a white lab coat approaches.

“Mr. Lyman? I’m Dr. Peters. What’s the trouble?”

I feel I should say that I’ve never had very good
experiences with doctors. Dr. Free Ride (as Josh has
taken to calling him) is a perfect example. I gave up
my life for him and I paid dearly for the mistake. So
you’ll humor me if I instantly distrust doctors.

Josh, however, is the picture of self-control. “A few
days ago I cut my hand on some glass. I thought it was
just fine but,” he smiles and gestures at me, “others
are convinced it needs to be looked at.”

Dr. Peters gives me a curt nod and un-wraps the
bandage on Josh’s hand. The blood has begun to clot
and he cleaned it well, but it’s angry and red. I must
have made a little noise because Josh turns to me and
gives me a weak smile. I can see in his eyes that he’s
wondering how much I understand about what happened to
him.

The doctor interrupts our silent exchange. “Well, it’s
in pretty good shape, but for it to heal well I’ll
need to stitch it up a little. I’ll be right back.”

Oh no. This quack is going to operate on Josh right
here in front of me. Some part of me understands that
this is not a big deal, but I start to shake and my
stomach…

Josh notices immediately. “Donna? Donna what’s wrong?”
He begins rub my arm with his good hand. How can he be
so calm? How can he-

“They’re just stitches, Donna. It’ll only take a few
seconds.” I look in his eyes and see how worried he
is. I’m being stupid. It’s nothing.

“Sorry, I panicked.” I feel ridiculous. He’s watching
me like he’s afraid I’m about to fall apart. I hate it
when people look at me like that.

“I’m okay. You can wait outside if you want to.”

“No! No, I need to be here. I’ll be fine.” He nods,
but the troubled look in his eyes doesn’t go away.

Dr. Peters returns and treats Josh’s hand. My insides
are still twisted in knots, but otherwise I am
perfectly calm. Josh is so worried about me he hardly
notices what Dr. Peters is doing. Before we know it
the doctor is gone and a nurse is telling Josh about
how to take care of his hand. I listen carefully
because I know I’ll be the one cleaning and wrapping
his wound. Josh stares off into space, deep in
thought.

As we’re walking out to the car Josh stops suddenly.
“Donna, how much do you know about what happened to
me?”

Oh shit. I have to say something.

“Post- Traumatic Stress Disorder, commonly called
PTSD. A severe emotional disorder that follows a
traumatic event, which is usually relived through
nightmares or vivid memories. Victim usually
experiences a numbing of emotional responses and
avoidance of stimuli that may remind them of the
traumatic event. Other symptoms include amnesia of the
event, hypervigilance, and problems sleeping. Effects
are usually very long lasting but cannot be diagnosed
until after the event, as opposed to acute stress
disorder which-”

I stop speaking abruptly. I hadn’t meant to say that
much. Josh looks stunned. I sounded so impersonal, so
distant. I hadn’t meant it to come out that way.

He swallows loudly. “Sometimes your knowledge of
obscure things is really frightening, you know that?”
He tries to laugh, but he can barely get the sound
out.

“I can recite my entire college psychology textbook
verbatim,” I joke lamely. I take a deep breath. “I
understand about the pilot and I…I know about the
window.” If possible he’s even more shocked than
before.

“How did you…?”

“I know you, Josh. I could tell the day the pilot died
that something was surfacing. Truth is, I had been
expecting it to happen ever since they moved you out
of the hospital.”

He doesn’t say anything. Joshua Lyman is speechless.
Hell is organizing a professional hockey team. Pigs
are flying into airplane propellers.

“And while we’re talking about this…Josh, while you
were in the ICU recovering from the operation, I had a
thing.”

He manages a feeble laugh. “You need to be a little
more specific, Donna. Though it seems you can read my
mind, I still require a little help understanding
yours.”

“The thing I mentioned before…acute stress disorder?”

“What about it?”

“I had an episode. It’s like a less severe and more
immediate version of PTSD…” This is worse than I ever
imagined it would be. He looks terrified, like he’s
afraid I’m about to collapse at his feet.

“Why didn’t anyone…why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry about me, Josh. That was
the last thing you needed. By the time you were in any
condition to handle it I was better. The symptoms
don’t last as long as they do with-”

“I don’t care. You should have told me.”

“I know. I’m sorry.” I try to stare at the pavement,
but Josh lifts my face to look him in the eye. He
leaves his hand cupped around my cheek.

“Donna, after the shooting you were my crutch. I
depended on you for everything, and you took care of
me. I…I honestly don’t know how I would have made it
through the past few months- no, the past three years
without you. I trust you with my life. I want you to
know…”He pauses and takes a deep breath.

“I want you to know that you can trust me with yours.”
I’m crying. The bastard is making me cry.

He pulls me to him and I bury my face in his chest. I
can feel him shaking and it sounds he’s sobbing into
my hair.

“Oh Josh-” I look up to see him trying desperately not
to laugh. The man is giggling like a schoolgirl. Ugh.

I hit him in the arm, starting to chuckle myself.
“What is wrong with you? We were having a moment!” At
this point he loses all control.

“You were…Oh God…!”

“Joshua! What is so amusing?”

“You were making that noise. The cartoon-villain
laugh…” The son of a bitch.

“I’m bawling in your arms and you ridicule me? You
mock the way I cry? You ARE an idiot!”

“Was there ever any doubt?” I punch him once again.
“Donna! That hurt!”

“You’ll think twice about what you say next time.”

“Let’s be realistic here, Donnatella…”

“A girl can dream, can’t she?” Now we’re just staring
at each other. Josh is grinning like a fool and I have
a hunch that I have a similar look on my face. I don’t
ever want to move from this spot. He’s the only person
I know who can smirk with his eyes. And behind the
smirk is something else I can’t yet give a name to.

Oh damn. He’s got that serious look again.

“Donna…”

“I’m fine, Josh.”

“That sounds vaguely familiar. Oh yeah, that’s because
that’s what I’ve been saying for the past three
weeks!”

“Only when I say it it’s the truth.”

“You’d tell me if it wasn’t?”

“Josh, I swear if I ever need anything you’ll be the
first person I complain to.”

“Donna, I’m serious.”

“So am I.” Come on, you can say this. “Three years ago
you saved my life, Josh. Since then you’ve
become...one of my closest friends. If I ever need
saving-”

“I’m your knight in shining armor.” The Smirk has
returned.

“I wish I’d never said that. It went straight to your
ego.”

“Everything does eventually.”

“That’s the truth.” Now he’s just smiling and for once
I can’t guess what he’s thinking about. He takes my
hands in his and leans forward.

“I may be your knight, but you’re the damsel who saves
my ass.” He kisses me very lightly on the forehead. It
wouldn’t have been romantic coming from anyone else,
but the way he said it and his eyes afterward…it meant
something. What I don’t know, but it definitely meant
something.

I take a moment to recover. “I think that title is
much more appropriate than ‘assistant’.”

“A little long to fit on a name plate, though.”

“You could have a sign made.”

“It would have to come out of your paycheck.”

“Speaking of my paycheck…”

THE END

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